


Tell Me a Tale

by TheyCallMeLazuli



Series: The Adventures Of GoldenClaw and Crossblade [3]
Category: RID2015, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Additional Tags to Be Added, Drunken Stories, Father-daughter issues, Past Drug Addiction, lots of feels, unhealthy drinking habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyCallMeLazuli/pseuds/TheyCallMeLazuli
Summary: It’s been years since Cybertron’s revival, and Crossblade is finally telling her friends about her past.





	1. Alcohol? You Mean Fun-Times Generator?

**Author's Note:**

> More oc hell, but this one will be a ride!

“Okay, okay. I’ll have one more, then I’m going home.” 

It had been years since the reincarnation of Cybertron and Optimus Prime’s death. Despite Crossblade’s best efforts, she had not managed to find a way off-planet. Most of her friends had returned to their regular lives, so Crossblade found great comfort in the rare times they got back together.

Currently Arcee, Bulkhead and Wheeljack were surrounding her, all drinking the best energon they could afford. Wheeljack had some weird thing with the mech running the bar (Crossblade was pretty sure they had dated) so drinks were cheap. Crossblade raised a hand, and he slid her a cube of high-grade.

“I’ve missed this. It's not often we have a chance to just chill.” Bulkhead stated, a soft layer of fuzz coating his voice. Everyone was a little tipsy, but it just made the night more fun. Bulkhead raised his cube, hiccuping quietly. “Cheers. To Optimus Prime!”

The others all raised their cubes, nodding in drunken agreement. “To Prime, the best mech in this universe!” Arcee exclaimed, then took a swig of her energon. Her optics were half-lidded as she scanned the table, and they settled on Crossblade.

Arcee pointed at Crossblade, grinning mischievously. “Hey, all the other times we’ve done this we’ve all told stories. ‘Cept you. Tell us a tale, Crossblade!” 

Crossblade chuckled, swishing her drink in its glass cube. “You sure? What kinda story am I supposed to tell?” She asked, looking up at the neon lights that covered the ceiling. In her drunken state, they almost looked like stars.

Wheeljack hummed thoughtfully, thinking for a minute. “I’ve got it. Tell us about your past, what things were like before Earth.” The others all nodded, obviously curious about Crossblade’s past life. “Yeah, we barely know anything about your life before you contacted us.” Bulkhead added, sipping his energon.

Crossblade tapped her fingers on her cube, then threw her hands up. “What the hell. Buckle your metaphorical seatbelts kiddos, because this is gonna be one wild ride.” She took a gulp of her drink, smacking her lip plates together in satisfaction as the alcohol spread through her system.

“My earliest memory is when I was around three years old.”

——————————————————————

A much younger Crossblade was sitting in a pen, rolling a ball made of discarded metal she had melted together. As a sparkling, she was barely bigger than the average human. Her optics were oversized, a gentle lavender. Her caretakers ad put her in the reinforced pen to keep her from destroying the house.

“Dropstream, we need to go! The Autobots will be here any minute!” Shouted the adult femme, her grey paint scratched. Her companion, a mech with dusty red paint stepped back, hands raised in fear. 

“Steelbird, we have a sparkling to take care of! We can’t just leave her here!” Dropstream countered, nervously glancing outside. His hadn’t signed up for raising the sparkling, but he had grown fond of her. “Besides-“ He raised a hand to cover his mouth, whispering the next bit. “-who knows what’ll happen if they learn we abandoned her?”

Steelbird looked to the window, flapping her hands in fear. “Shut up! We promised the cons that we wouldn’t speak of it!” She began to pace, the seeker’s wings pressed to her back. “They paid us, but they’re losing! They can’t attack us if they’re dead.” 

Dropstream glanced to the oblivious sparkling, his optics shaky. “We can’t just leave her! I don’t want the Decepticon high command after us either…” He pressed a hand to his cheek, trying to calm himself.

They both remembered when a group of equally confused cons had dropped the child into their arms. The one in charged had pressed a couple hundred units into their hands, telling them their mission. Apparently, this sparkling was of importance to Lord Megatron, and the warlord himself would retrieve her in time. Dropstream and Steelbird has accepted, but had been wary of the sparkling. 

Steelbird growled, then raised her arm. A missile fired, hitting Dropstream point-blank. “I won’t be held down by your ridiculousness. I’m leaving.” The seeker walked outside, transforming and flying out of Koan. Dropstream passed quickly, his spark sputtering into nothingness. 

The young sparkling had heard the missile and her caretaker’s groans, and stood up curiously. She waddled to the wall of her pen, her toy forgotten. Crossblade flicked a cap on the tip of her servo open, releasing a small flame. She held it to the wall of the pen, making a hole big enough for her to walk out of in a few minutes.

She stepped out, looking into the kitchen. When she saw Dropstream’s fallen body, coolant welled up in her optics. She knelt by her caretaker’s head, touching his cheek softly. “S...Stream?” She didn’t know much, but she did know his name. When he didn’t sit up to hug her or laugh, her frame began to shake. “Stream!” 

The sparkling wailed by his side for hours, only stopping when she fell asleep. When she awoke, Dropstream’s energon had cooled, and his metal body stunk of death. She stood, wiping her optics. Her basic survival instincts told her to move, that staying here would be bad. So she walked out of her old house, staring at the ground.

Her somber expression broke when a squadron of massive bots ran in front of her path, firing into the skies. The child gave a scream, falling back. The bots couldn’t hear her, and their weapons were loud. She picked herself up, then started to run away. 

Covering her face with her small hands, the sparkling ran into the first building with an open door. She fled inside, huddling under a table. It was hours until the blaster fire stopped, then the sparkling finally crawled out. 

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade turned her cube upside down, frowning at the lack of energon. “Well, I did say only one more.” The others threw their hands up in frustration. “Come on!” 

The femme laughed at their reactions, waving over the bartender for another cube. “Fine, I’ll keep going. Jeez...”


	2. Energon Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Crossblade keeps remembering, hints of her origins begin to emerge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones longer than my usual chapter, but I’m pretty proud of it.

As Crossblade took long sip out of her cube, Wheeljack was tapping the table in anticipation. “Crossblade, you can't just stop there! Keep going!” The femme just sighed, continuing her tale. 

“After I found the warehouse, my memories are kinda fuzzy. I only remember bits and pieces.”

 

——————————————————————

 

The sparkling had been curled up under the table for hours, and had emerged at sunrise. She stood up, feeling oddly comfortable in the workshop. The sun had warmed the rooms, and dust was slowly spiraling down towards her.

The child reached a hand up, running her servos along the table. “...feels nice.” She stated softly, trying to memorize the feel of the scratched table. She looked around, and climbed up the stool that had been conveniently placed by the tabletop. 

As she crawled onto the counter, her optics widened at the sheer amount of tools. There was more than the young child could count, not to mention a whole crate full of scrap metal and tools for decorating. “Wow!” She exclaimed, kneeling by a toolbox and peeking inside.

She reached a hand in, and pulled out a dusty screwdriver. Turning it over in her hands, she found herself longing for her old toys, and looked over to a heap of discarded armour. She crawled over, then turned on the tiny flame on her servo.

It took a few hours, but soon the armour had all been melted down and moulded into basic shapes. A few were simple spheres, but most were shaped vaguely like Cybertronians. The sparkling grinned at her efforts, picking up a toy shaped like Steelbird. She hugged it to her chest, purring in delight.

Her happiness faded when she realized how hungry she was. Her engines were rumbling, and her inner screens gave her warnings about low energon. Thinking back to the times her caretakers took her shopping, she remembered how they would trade things for energon. She picked up two of the dolls, shoving them into her subspace. She reached a pede down, carefully dropping back down to the floor.

The young femme stepped out into the streets, searching for a storefront. When she finally found a shop, she pushed open the massive door and climbed up to the counter. Slapping the dolls onto the counter, she say cross legged and looked up at the mech running the cash register. “I need rations.” She stated bluntly, sliding the dolls across the table. “Can we trade my dolls for energon?” 

A few minutes later, a smug sparkling left the shop, lugging a wheelbarrow filled with raw energon crystals and a processor. She smiled and hummed a little tune as she dragged her spoils into her new home. 

 

——————————————————————

 

The adult Crossblade took a bored sip of her drink, leaning on the table. “That’s what most of my childhood was like.” To the femme’s amusement, it seemed that Bulkhead had dozed off. 

Wheeljack, however, was fully awake. He was tapping the table in anticipation, grinning at Crossblade. “Please, keep going! The suspense is killing me!” Crossblade raised an eyebrow at the excited mech, but shrugged.

“You’re easily entertained when your drunk.” Crossblade quipped. Wheeljack jokingly punched her arm, but in his state it was closer to a poke. “Alright, one more.”

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade was now older, a teenager. In human years she was around fifteen. And boy, did it show in her actions. The teen was always causing trouble, whether it be by stealing supplies or burning precincts to the ground. 

It was late, and Crossblade was wide awake. The young femme strode through the streets of Koan, her newly installed indigo visor down. She was scanning the streets, searching for materials. The recent Autobot incursions has meant that the black market was slow, and when the market was slow times were rough. 

She flipped a wrench in the air, stopping in front of an alleyway. Her scanner had picked up a distinct energy signal, and Crossblade decided to investigate. As she crouched by the dumpster, turning over the reactor in her hands, she heard heavy footsteps pass.

A group of police officers were past, blasters charged and humming dangerously. Crossblade felt her breath hitch, and she scuttled behind a pile of trash to hide. Her audio receptors were picking up bits and pieces of their sentences. Crossblade mentally swore, cursing her defective audio receptors. Reaching to her belt, she drew two of her blades, nervously running her thumbs over the engravings on the handle.

Much to her dismay, the cops stopped walking right in front of her alley, blocking her escape route. She squeezed the handles of her knives, trying to ground herself. She was one of the lower caste, basically homeless and unemployed. If these cops found her and brought her in, only Primus knows what they’d do to her.

“I hate this city. It's so dirty.” Commented one of the taller officers, wiping a servo on the wall and sneering when dust stuck to it. “What are we even looking for?” He placed his hands on his hips, smirking in a way that made Crossblade’s energon boil. She hated those stuck-up high castes. Why can’t they stay in Iacon, or Crystal City? Why’d they have to come down to Koan and Tarn, just to mock it?

Crossblade growled quietly, her optics bright with barely contained anger. She stuck her head out from behind the dumpster, trying to get a proper look. The cops weren’t even paying attention, just scanning the streets and leering at any passing bots. Crossblade looked to the end of the alley, then grinned. There was a simple chain link fence at the end, and behind that fence was a door to the underground transports.

She stood up, sticking to the wall like it was covered in glue. Placing a pede on the fence, a smug smile grew on her faceplate. However, that smile faded when the fence rattled noisily at her weight. She began to scamper up, but the cops looked over just in time to see her drop down from the top of the fence.

“Hey! Get back here, street scum!” One of the cops yelled, running after her. They all vaulted over the fence, their large size making it look easy. Crossblade hissed, hastily shoving the scavenged part from the dumpster in her subspace. She revved the wheels on her pedes, starting to skate away from the cops. She jumped onto a railing that led into the underground transport tunnels, sliding down. “That’s the one HE was looking for!” 

The crowds beneath weren’t phased by her dramatic entrance, instead choosing to ignore her. The real chaos began when the trio of cops stampeded down the stairs, shouting unintelligible threats. The crowd put two and two together quickly, but decided to help out a fellow Koanian. They all began to walk slower, sticking together and blocking the police bot’s way. 

This gave Crossblade the perfect opportunity to pull a few coins from her small satchel, tossing it into the register and opening the gate. She kept sprinting, sliding under some of the bigger bot’s legs if she couldn’t skate around them. Soon she was caught up to the arriving shuttle, and hopped in with ease. 

The shuttle stayed at the station for a painful 30 seconds. Crossblade caught a glimpse of the officers, but the shuttle lurched to a start and began its acceleration. The cops tried to convince one of the security guards to stop the shuttle, but Crossblade was already gone. 

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade finished, downing the last of her drink and wiping the droplets from her mouth. “Well, that’s everything I can handle for one night.” She stood, and gave everyone a quick hug. Bulkhead was barely awake, and groggily hugged her back. 

“I guess we’ll see you later?” Arcee suggested, standing up and taking Crossblade’s arm. She led her to the door, a dazed smile on her face. “Have a good night, Cross.” The exhausted femme waved, and slowly made her way back to her apartment.

As she strolled through the dark streets, the past seemed to creep back up on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My requests are open, so if you drop a request into my inbox on tumblr (@cybertronianslut) it’ll be posted here too!


	3. The Teen Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Crossblade keeps remembering, hints of her origins start to emerge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones linger than my usual chapter but I’m pretty proud of it.

As Crossblade took long sip out of her cube, Wheeljack was tapping the table in anticipation. “Crossblade, you can't just stop there! Keep going!” The femme just sighed, continuing her tale. 

“After I found the warehouse, my memories are kinda fuzzy. I only remember bits and pieces.”

 

——————————————————————

 

The sparkling had been curled up under the table for hours, and had emerged at sunrise. She stood up, feeling oddly comfortable in the workshop. The sun had warmed the rooms, and dust was slowly spiraling down towards her.

The child reached a hand up, running her servos along the table. “...feels nice.” She stated softly, trying to memorize the feel of the scratched table. She looked around, and climbed up the stool that had been conveniently placed by the tabletop. 

As she crawled onto the counter, her optics widened at the sheer amount of tools. There was more than the young child could count, not to mention a whole crate full of scrap metal and tools for decorating. “Wow!” She exclaimed, kneeling by a toolbox and peeking inside.

She reached a hand in, and pulled out a dusty screwdriver. Turning it over in her hands, she found herself longing for her old toys, and looked over to a heap of discarded armour. She crawled over, then turned on the tiny flame on her servo.

It took a few hours, but soon the armour had all been melted down and moulded into basic shapes. A few were simple spheres, but most were shaped vaguely like Cybertronians. The sparkling grinned at her efforts, picking up a toy shaped like Steelbird. She hugged it to her chest, purring in delight.

Her happiness faded when she realized how hungry she was. Her engines were rumbling, and her inner screens gave her warnings about low energon. Thinking back to the times her caretakers took her shopping, she remembered how they would trade things for energon. She picked up two of the dolls, shoving them into her subspace. She reached a pede down, carefully dropping back down to the floor.

The young femme stepped out into the streets, searching for a storefront. When she finally found a shop, she pushed open the massive door and climbed up to the counter. Slapping the dolls onto the counter, she say cross legged and looked up at the mech running the cash register. “I need rations.” She stated bluntly, sliding the dolls across the table. “Can we trade my dolls for energon?” 

A few minutes later, a smug sparkling left the shop, lugging a wheelbarrow filled with raw energon crystals and a processor. She smiled and hummed a little tune as she dragged her spoils into her new home. 

 

——————————————————————

 

The adult Crossblade took a bored sip of her drink, leaning on the table. “That’s what most of my childhood was like.” To the femme’s amusement, it seemed that Bulkhead had dozed off. 

Wheeljack, however, was fully awake. He was tapping the table in anticipation, grinning at Crossblade. “Please, keep going! The suspense is killing me!” Crossblade raised an eyebrow at the excited mech, but shrugged.

“You’re easily entertained when your drunk.” Crossblade quipped. Wheeljack jokingly punched her arm, but in his state it was closer to a poke. “Alright, one more.”

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade was now older, a teenager. In human years she was around fifteen. And boy, did it show in her actions. The teen was always causing trouble, whether it be by stealing supplies or burning precincts to the ground. 

It was late, and Crossblade was wide awake. The young femme strode through the streets of Koan, her newly installed indigo visor down. She was scanning the streets, searching for materials. The recent Autobot incursions has meant that the black market was slow, and when the market was slow times were rough. 

She flipped a wrench in the air, stopping in front of an alleyway. Her scanner had picked up a distinct energy signal, and Crossblade decided to investigate. As she crouched by the dumpster, turning over the reactor in her hands, she heard heavy footsteps pass.

A group of police officers were past, blasters charged and humming dangerously. Crossblade felt her breath hitch, and she scuttled behind a pile of trash to hide. Her audio receptors were picking up bits and pieces of their sentences. Crossblade mentally swore, cursing her defective audio receptors. Reaching to her belt, she drew two of her blades, nervously running her thumbs over the engravings on the handle.

Much to her dismay, the cops stopped walking right in front of her alley, blocking her escape route. She squeezed the handles of her knives, trying to ground herself. She was one of the lower caste, basically homeless and unemployed. If these cops found her and brought her in, only Primus knows what they’d do to her.

“I hate this city. It's so dirty.” Commented one of the taller officers, wiping a servo on the wall and sneering when dust stuck to it. “What are we even looking for?” He placed his hands on his hips, smirking in a way that made Crossblade’s energon boil. She hated those stuck-up high castes. Why can’t they stay in Iacon, or Crystal City? Why’d they have to come down to Koan and Tarn, just to mock it?

Crossblade growled quietly, her optics bright with barely contained anger. She stuck her head out from behind the dumpster, trying to get a proper look. The cops weren’t even paying attention, just scanning the streets and leering at any passing bots. Crossblade looked to the end of the alley, then grinned. There was a simple chain link fence at the end, and behind that fence was a door to the underground transports.

She stood up, sticking to the wall like it was covered in glue. Placing a pede on the fence, a smug smile grew on her faceplate. However, that smile faded when the fence rattled noisily at her weight. She began to scamper up, but the cops looked over just in time to see her drop down from the top of the fence.

“Hey! Get back here, street scum!” One of the cops yelled, running after her. They all vaulted over the fence, their large size making it look easy. Crossblade hissed, hastily shoving the scavenged part from the dumpster in her subspace. She revved the wheels on her pedes, starting to skate away from the cops. She jumped onto a railing that led into the underground transport tunnels, sliding down. “That’s the one HE was looking for!” 

The crowds beneath weren’t phased by her dramatic entrance, instead choosing to ignore her. The real chaos began when the trio of cops stampeded down the stairs, shouting unintelligible threats. The crowd put two and two together quickly, but decided to help out a fellow Koanian. They all began to walk slower, sticking together and blocking the police bot’s way. 

This gave Crossblade the perfect opportunity to pull a few coins from her small satchel, tossing it into the register and opening the gate. She kept sprinting, sliding under some of the bigger bot’s legs if she couldn’t skate around them. Soon she was caught up to the arriving shuttle, and hopped in with ease. 

The shuttle stayed at the station for a painful 30 seconds. Crossblade caught a glimpse of the officers, but the shuttle lurched to a start and began its acceleration. The cops tried to convince one of the security guards to stop the shuttle, but Crossblade was already gone. 

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade finished, downing the last of her drink and wiping the droplets from her mouth. “Well, that’s everything I can handle for one night.” She stood, and gave everyone a quick hug. Bulkhead was barely awake, and groggily hugged her back. 

“I guess we’ll see you later?” Arcee suggested, standing up and taking Crossblade’s arm. She led her to the door, a dazed smile on her face. “Have a good night, Cross.” The exhausted femme waved, and slowly made her way back to her apartment.

As she strolled through the dark streets, the past seemed to creep back up on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing prompts are open, so if you send in a prompt to my Tumblr (@cybertronianslut) I’ll post it here too!


	4. Sensory Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glitches in the system.

She was walking slowly, but her processor wasn’t sending any signals. All she could see was static, optics flashing in alarm. Her audio receptors were cutting out, the sounds of passing bots too choppy to understand. In a flash of panic, she used her sense of touch to pull herself to a bench.

Crossblade breathed heavily, holding her head in her hands. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but when her senses finally came back online she almost sobbed in relief. Sensory deprivation was too...familiar. She took a ragged breath, then opened her optics and sat up properly.

Judging by the sky, it was almost morning. She couldn’t see the sun yet, but she could see that the sky had lightened. Crossblade sighed, standing up shakily. “At least I have the day off tomorrow…” 

Crossblade shook her head, continuing back to her apartment. Much to her dismay, it seemed that her trip down memory lane had not been a good idea. The world seemed to be rushing past her, and she only noticed how tired she was when she was at her door. Crossblade punched in the code, stumbling inside like a zombie. 

She flopped into her berth, curling up into a small ball. This apartment was close to her workshop nd the rent was cheap, but Crossblade still found herself feeling trapped. The walls were an uncomfortable shade of grey. 

Crossblade frowned, burying her face in her pillow. As her mind drifted, she began to reminisce. 

 

——————————————————————

 

Crossblade, now an adult working for the Decepticons. She had sworn her loyalty, gotten the insignia branded on her chassis and been assigned work. But despite her lower status as only a beginner engineer, she was often invited into the high command’s meetings.

“I believe that equipping our troops with a standard cannon of this design will optimize battle prowess.” The pompous mech who had suggested that was Gearslider, an engineer with a bigger ego than his massive head.

Lord Megatron seemed intrigued with the idea, giving Gearslider a nod. With his idea approved and himself dismissed, the mech had somehow already finished packing up his blueprints. He bowed to Lord Megatron, then strode to the door. “Crossblade, come.” Crossblade winced at the way be commanded her, but slid out of the chair and bowed low to the high command. 

Just as she reached the door, she was interrupted by the dark voice of her master. “Crossblade, you are to stay. Gearslider, you are dismissed.” Crossblade froze, but returned to her seat. Gearslider sputtered and shot a sour look at Crossblade, stomping back to the workshop.

Crossblade was shivering, keeping her optics downcast. She wasn’t a very religious person, but she was praying to Primus that Lord Megatron ignored her. However, as she was always the unlucky one, the first when did was turn to the tiny femme. Suddenly, she was aware of how much the others dwarfed her. Starscream was the shortest of the high command, and she only went up to the bottom of his chassis!

“Crossblade, what is your input on Gearslider’s design?” Megatron looked as serious as usual, but her keen optics picked up a hint of...something in his face. She wasn’t sure, but it almost felt like fondness. 

Crossblade clasped her hands together to stop herself from shaking. “W-well, although I with having a standard weapon for Vehicons, his design is…” She searched for the right word, glossa in knots. “...flawed, to say the least.” 

Crossblade glanced up, energon freezing in her fuel lines when she saw Megatron’s expression.

He looked...proud.

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade shot out of bed, a hand over her spark. She doubled over, a hand over her mouth. She didn’t want to remember, she had buried these memories deep in her processor for a reason. 

Primus, she wanted her pills.


	5. Fondness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is her processor hiding her memories?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor bby

The next morning, Crossblade’s hands were unsteady as she processed her energon. She cursed under her breath, almost dropping her cube when she tried to drink from it. “Slag.” She set the cube down, looking to her window. 

The skies were the colour of a bruise, with Cybertron’s moon just peeking over the horizon. Crossblade sighed, tapping her servos on the energon cube. Oddly enough, she wasn’t hungry. In fact, just the thought of finishing her cube made her feel sick. Crossblade pulled her special energon processor from a cabinet, pouring the contents of her cube inside. 

As she waited for her custom processor to make her candies, she felt a little closer to herself. A sad smile fell onto her lip plates, and she almost laughed. Crossblade heard the tell-tale click of her candy processor turning off, and removed her sweets from the machine. She slipped them into her subspace, then walked to her door.

This was one of the few days she had off, and Crossblade planned to make the most of it. She stepped out of her apartment building, breathing in the cool morning air. She stepped onto the road, transforming into her alt mode. 

While she drove, she connected to the Grid. To her delight, her favourite station was playing songs she liked. Crossblade’s engine hummed along with the tune, her biolights a soft lavender. She drove along the roads of Crystal City, basking in its beauty. Crossblade had only seen Crystal City once before, and that was on a Decepticon incursion.

The reminder of the mission made her engine stall, and her processor felt clouded once again. She had to kickstart it. Luckily she had been stopped in traffic, but the kickstart spooked the grounder in front of her. She flashed her headlights in apology, driving slowly to her destination.

Crossblade stopped in front of one of the older buildings, transforming to stand in front of it. The Crystal City archives. She had never been inside, but there’s a first time for everything.

Crossblade pushed open the doors, piloting waving at the elderly archivist. She quickly walked to the back, sitting down in front of a datapad. She was rather out of her element, but her nimble servos at least knew how to use a datapad.

She searched and searched the archives, but still found nothing. Crossblade sighed, turning off the datapad. “Where are the others? I can’t be the only one with this frame.” No matter where she looked, Crossblade had never seen or even heard of anyone else with her model. She had no memory of getting custom modifications done, but the last few hours had proven that her processor had its own secrets.

She laid her head on the desk, staring blankly at the far wall. She couldn’t trust her own memories, and she had no idea where she came from. Crossblade hadn’t even thought about Steelbird and Dropstream in years, only remembering their existence when she had gotten drunk. 

Crossblade groaned, closing her optics. She was so tired.

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade was sitting on Knockout’s medical table, swinging her legs as he made notes on his datapad. He had given her a full checkup, but was spending longer than usual looking at the results. 

“So, Commander Starscream suggested you see me because he thought you were having hearing problems, correct?” Knockout asked, finally looking back to Crossblade. 

“Yeah. But my hearing hasn’t changed at all.” Crossblade responded, shrugging. She hadn’t noticed a single change in her hearing, assuming the commander was just being difficult. Knockout winced, turning his datapad around so she could see the results of his testing. 

“That’s because you’re completely deaf in your left audio receptor, and probably have been since creation.” He shook his head sympathetically, setting down the datapad. “I can make a hearing aid, but your...unique... frame will make construction difficult.” 

Crossblade raised a servo to the left side of her head, snapping her fingers. Her optics widened when she realized she couldn’t hear it from that side, and was picking up the sound from her right. “Oh. That explains some things.” She murmured, looking back to Knockout. “How long will it take?” Crossblade asked, leaning forward. Knockout shrugged, and was already walking away.

“Could be a day, could be a week. I’ll just call you when it's done.” She nodded, slipping off the table and exciting his office. She made sure to walk with Knockout on her right, the receptor picking up every little sound. “Thanks.” 

Crossblade walked back to her workshop slowly, consciously paying attention. Now that she had been made aware of the faulty receptor, the crushing silence from her left side painfully obvious. Crossblade sighed, pushing open the door of her shop and slumping on her workstool. 

She had been assigned with a massive project by Lord Megatron, and the huge scale of her assignment was really putting her off. Her job was to revamp the Nemesis’ engines. Because of the size of the project, Lord Megatron had insisted she spend as much time in her workshop as necessary to ‘optimize her efficiency.’

Crossblade knew he was her master, but she couldn’t help but feel rebellious. Which was odd, given her status. She would cower before Starscream, or shyly whisper her words to Knockout, but Megatron had an odd effect on her. Crossblade always felt closer to him, and the out of character softness he often showed her didn’t help that. 

She sighed, but peeled up a little when she heard her door slide open. Crossblade turned, feeling her biolights warm unintentionally when her master entered. Megatron was looking grim, like the leader he was, but she could’ve sworn his EM field had a slight tinge of fondness. 

“Greetings, my lord. What brings you here?” Crossblade asked, standing up to bow to him. Megatron smiled at her, walking over to look at her work. “I’m doing well. How is your project progressing?” 

Crossblade sighed, pointing at some of the calculations she had done on her sketches. “I have an idea for the main structure, but there’s the issue of making it large enough to process fuel in large quantities but not use up too much fuel itself.” She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head at the blueprints. 

Megatron nodded sympathetically, patting her back. “It is a large job, take your time.” He glanced around the room, crimson optics scanning the mess. “I heard Knockout gave you a diagnosis for your hearing problems?” 

Crossblade gave a cynical grin, tapping the plates covering her broken receptor. “Yeah. Apparently I’m completely deaf in my left receptor.” She laughed a little, trying to stay positive. “Must’ve been that way since I was born, because I never knew.”

Megatron muttered something, but he was standing to her left. “What a shame. I had faith that this project would work.”

Crossblade looked up at him, tilting her head. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you, my lord.” Megatron gave her a kind smile, dismissing her question with a pat to her head. “It’s nothing, my dear.”

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade woke up to an archivist tapping her shoulder, frowning at her. “Ma’am, you can’t nap in here.” Crossblade raised her hands in apology, gathering her things to leave. “I'm sorry, I must be more behind on my recharge than I thought.”

As Crossblade left the archive and began to walk through the city’s glimmering streets, worry churned in her engine. If she had forgotten Megatron treating her like his own kin, then what other memories were hidden in her processor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests on my Tumblr are still open!


	6. Lavender Optics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossblade misses her sparkmate, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be pissed at him.

The next week was stressful, to say the least. Crossblade hadn’t had any major flashbacks, instead she would have small memories slam into her mind throughout the day, leaving her reeling for at least an hour. 

One of the most disturbing visions she had seen was a fleeting image of a mech four times her size swinging a battleaxe down on her, while countless bots cheered him on. Crossblade had no memory of ever fighting in the pits of Kaon, but clearly her processor couldn’t be trusted.

She had just gotten off work, and felt like filling the void. As she roamed the city, she felt her mind wander. As always, it wandered towards Starscream. Crossblade gave a longing sigh, remembering his face. The mech was arrogant and could be rude, but he had kissed Crossblade like they were going to die the next day. 

Nothing could beat the feeling of being loved.

And that’s what made her solitude feel so much worse. After Megatron disbanded the Decepticons for good, Starscream had disappeared. As far as Crossblade knew, he had flown away from Cybertron as soon as the core had been revived.

Crossblade felt her spark ache, and she yearned for something to make her feel alive. She pulled up a map of the city from the mini datapad on her forearm, searching for places to go. Lucky for her, there was a nightclub not too far from her apartment. Crossblade stepped onto the road, transforming to drive home. 

As usual, her apartment seemed cold and unwelcoming, but Crossblade ignored the dread welling up from her gut. She stepped into her bathroom, pulling a container of buffing wax and a rag from her cabinet. Knockout had insisted that she take one of his, saying that ‘a good buff would do wonders for her paint job.’ It turned out the mad doctor was right. Crossblade looked much better, and she smiled at herself in the mirror.

“A night on the town. Maybe that’ll fix your fragged up processor.” She snarked, a servo tapping the counter anxiously. Crossblade pulled a candy from her subspace, popping it in her mouth. She bit down savagely, not even tasting the sweet. She sighed as the energon spread through her systems, loosening her limbs. “Okay. You can do this.”

~~~

The club was loud, lit up with low-cost neon lighting. Crossblade wasn’t even sure if music was playing, because all she could hear was the beat of her own spark, and energon rushing through her fuel lines. She had been sitting on a cheap couch, sipping a cube of low-grade when a mech approached her, a smug little grin on his faceplate.

“W hello there sweetspark.” Crossblade cringed at the sleazy mech’s tone, feeling herself shrink a little. “What’s a femme like you doing in a run-down place like this?” He was leering at her, not even bothering to hide his roaming optics. 

Crossblade looked him over, brow raised at the creep’s flashy paint. If he wasn’t such an aft, he would probably be attractive. But she wasn’t here to get laid, so why did she feel like this was her chance for escape?

“Looking for a break. You?” Why was she humouring him? She didn’t want this! “Oh, just for a little fun. Speaking of which…” He leaned forward, getting uncomfortably close to Crossblade’s faceplate. “How would you feel about coming home with me, for a little fun?” 

Crossblade felt her breath hitch, not expecting him to be so upfront about it. If she had been on earth, she would’ve flat-out refused the mech, and probably slapped him. But she wasn’t on earth, and the one mech she loved was MIA.

Crossblade thought for a moment, pretending to be contemplating. Starscream had left her without even saying goodbye. It was like the countless kisses and thousands of soft touches were meaningless to him. Crossblade felt her hands clench into fists at the thought, remembering how many times Starscream had said he loved her.

“That sounds perfect.” Crossblade stood, taking the mech’s hand. He smirked at her, pulling her outside of the nightclub. He led them into the building next door, walking up the stairs and pushing Crossblade into his apartment. 

He might’ve whispered his name, or maybe it was a compliment, but she wasn’t paying attention. Crossblade just wanted to feel whole again. 

~~~

Crossblade had pretended to be asleep after the deed, feeling even more sick than before. She had thought that a meaningless interface would make her feel better, but she just felt like expelling her energon. She sat up in the sleeping mech’s bed, holding her head in her hands. 

“...I want to go home.” She whispered, optics welling with coolant. Her optics were burning, and her vision was blurry. She stood up shakily, slowly walking out to the window. She climbed out with ease, small frame slipping through. 

Crossblade dropped down to the street, beginning her walk of shame home. When she finally made it back, she just lay face down on her berth, cocooning herself in the covers. Sleep came quickly, but sleep didn’t bring her relief anymore.

 

——————————————————————-

 

“You are not to touch her!” It would’ve been impossible for Crossblade to not identify the owner of the furious voice, but in her panic she could barely think straight. The anger wasn’t even directed at her, but it still hit her hard.

“My liege, I didn’t hit her! I just moved her out of the way!” This voice was a bit easier to identify. Starscream was pleading to Lord Megatron, but the reason for her master’s outburst was ridiculous. Starscream hadn’t hit her. He had just gave her a gentle shove when she had been standing in the way. No big deal.

Crossblade carefully stepped closer to the door of Headquarters, holding onto her report with a death grip. The door was open, so she could hear hear everything perfectly. The hearing aid Knockout had built for her was incredible. She technically had super hearing on her left! Or maybe this is what having regular hearing was like, she wouldn’t know. With her newfound ability, Crossblade listened in.

“Get out. I’ve worked very hard to get Crossblade on this ship alive, and you will not ruin it.” Megatron’s was seething, his voice almost sounding calm. For some reason, that scared her more than his furious roars. She heard the sound of Starscream scuttling back, then saw the back of his pede peeking out of the door. Crossblade leaned back onto her wheels, silently rolling out of sight.

“Master, it will not happen again. I won’t touch her!” Starscream’s voice was shaky, but it seemed that Megatron had dismissed him. Crossblade heard his livid whisper, sensing his anger. 

“You will keep your disgusting, greasy servos away from my daughter. Dismissed.” Starscream bowed low, then turned tail and ran. Crossblade saw him pass with his wings lowered in fear, her optics wide. Why was Megatron being so protective of her? And did he just call her his daughter?

Crossblade breathed in, waiting till Starscream was out of earshot. Once she couldn’t hear him, she slipped out of her hiding spot and quietly rolled towards Headquarters. She was painfully aware of the soft whirs her wheels made, frowning down at them. Crossblade stopped just outside the door frame, knocking on the wall. “My lord, I have my weekly report.”

Megatron was seated at his throne, optics rimmed with burgundy. He looked tired, like he could fall asleep at any second. “Very well. Let me see.” He beckoned her forward, not really paying attention. Crossblade stepped up to his pedes, activating her holographic datapad. With a flick of her servo, the screen flipped to him. 

“I have finished the design for the new engines, and tested it. I will just need to build and install it now.” She zoomed on the blueprints, letting Megatron peer at them. He smiled as he examined her designs holding his chin in his hand. “Wonderful, my dear.”

He reached down, resting hand on top of her head. Crossblade grinned up at him, relaxing into the fatherly touch. “Thank you, my lord.” Megatron looked a little awkward and stood up to walk away, but he waved her forward. “Come, Crossblade. I have a gift for you.”

Crossblade nodded, turning off her hologram to run behind him. He led her deep into the ship, striding to his section of the ship. He reached a hall Crossblade had never seen before, and a huge door opened. Inside was a massive training room, racks on the walls lined with weapons. Megatron waved a hand at the room, pulling Crossblade forward with his free hand. 

“I have decided to train you personally.” He looked down at her, smirking at her expression. “I assume you have weapons you specialize in, correct?” Crossblade nodded, pulling her blades out of their holsters and holding them up to Megatron. “Yes, but I don’t really know how to use them in a real battle…”

Megatron hummed to himself, raising a servo to signal for her stay quiet. “I know an alternative that will suit you.” He walked over to a weapon rack, pulling small metal staff from it. He tossed it to Crossblade, who luckily caught it without falling over. “A spear or staff would allow you to reach up to sensitive areas on bigger bots than you. Besides, you can always try to attach your blades so you can have a backup weapon if your spear breaks.”

Crossblade set the tip of the staff on the ground, getting a good grip on it. The staff had clearly never been used, and was just a little shorter than her. “My lord, thank you! I’ve always wanted to learn how to fight!” She bowed to him, clutching the staff to her chassis.

Megatron was glowing in approval, his EM field warm. It felt hopeful to her, and she couldn’t help but be proud of the way he was reacting. “Step one, fix your stance. Like this.” Megatron modeled a proper stance, miming holding his own weapon. 

“The spear will either be your best friend or s clunky stick, depending on how good you are at wielding it.” Crossblade nodded, mimicking his pose. He gave her a smug grin, sinking deeper into his defensive stance. “Because of your stature, aiming for heels and skating around your opponent will make the most of your size.”

“Now, try to land a blow on me.”

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade awoke with a gasp, arms held out like she was holding her spear. “Father? Training?” She slowly lowered her arms, frame shaking. Crossblade had never remembered that event until now, and was reeling from the odd dream. 

Normal bots would’ve treated these flashbacks as a medical issue and seen a doctor already, but Crossblade wasn’t a normal bot. Her processor had memories wiped off of it, and she was just remembering years of experiences now. Also her optics felt weird. Crossblade stood up, staggering to her washroom. She flicked the light on, staring at herself in the mirror. A flash of colour caught her optics, so she leaned in to take a closer look.

Her violet optics had spiderwebs of lavender spreading through them, the exact same colour as her optics when she was a sparkling. The violet was slowly but surely being replaced.


	7. Starry Nights and Lavender Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossblade is becoming aware, and her optics are still dripping.

Crossblade frowned at her optics, a servo touching her cheek in disbelief. Optics don’t just...change. That kind of thing only happened in stories. Crossblade’s violet optics were that way because of a welding accident years ago! She remembered Knockout telling her all this, and remembered it happening!

...but...her processor was clearly capable of hiding her memories away.

Crossblade shook her head violently, offlining her optic so she couldn’t see the offending colour. Turning on her heel, she carefully turned around and walked out of the bathroom. 

“Stupid fraggin’ eyes.” She muttered, rolling into the kitchen. She put her optics back online, lids fluttering as they recalibrated. She grabbed a raw energon crystal and shoved it in her candy processor, grumbling to herself. 

As she watched the energon process, filtering into their tiny crystals, she felt her optics burning. Crossblade growled, trying to block out the pain. Her candy finished with a monotone beep, and she hastily shoved a candy in her mouth. 

The sweetness spread through her mouth, making her sigh. This moment of peace stopped, however, when the sickening feeling of her reality being swept away, replaced with another flashback. For a moment, Crossblade could’ve sworn that she saw a clawed hand reaching for her.

 

——————————————————————-

 

“Crossblade, what’s going on with you? You seem more on edge than usual.” 

Crossblade was younger than she was in her last flashback, and her branding mark was fresh. The femme was curled up on her stool, breathing heavily. Her body ached, and she felt like she was about the split apart.

“I just need the pills. I need the pills, then everything will go away.” Her voice was monotonous, but her posture showed her fear. The other young con stepped closer, his hands raised. “W-what pills? You know any drugs are against army code!” 

Crossblade buried her face in her hands, rocking on the stool. “I know they’re banned, that’s why I haven’t been able to get them!” Her companion flinched, backing away. He was just a vehicon, another soldier who had been born into his role. He didn’t understand. 

“I’m…gonna go. I have patrol duties in a few clicks.” He walked backwards out of the room, shivering. As soon as he was out of site, he began to run back to his squadron. He didn’t want to hang out with the crazy junkie. 

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade snapped out of her trance relatively fast, reeling a little. “Drugs, huh? At least I kinda remembered that bit.” She just popped another candy in her mouth, shivering. 

Crossblade grabbed her bag of tools, then walked to her balcony. She looked down, staring at the ground. She was on the twentieth floor, but she wasn’t scared. Being up this high reminded her of the time Starscream had lifted her up and flew across the sky.

Crossblade froze when she remembered that night, feeling coolant well up in her eyes. “Starscream...I miss you…” She whispered, words being carried away by the wind. Tears began to stream from Crossblade’s optics, staining her faceplate. “I miss you so fragging much.” 

Crossblade didn’t go to work that day.


	8. The Pits Of Kaon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is learning.

Crossblade had spent the morning laying on her couch, trying to piece together her memories. As she scanned her processor for little details that might give her some clues, a thought struck her. Crossblade had a small flashback to fighting in what appeared to be a ring, but hadn’t regained the full memory yet. What if she needed a larger event to trigger another flashback.

Crossblade sat up, turning on her datapad. She swiped through her contacts, searching for the femme’s name. When she finally found her number, Crossblade started a call. 

“Hey, Claw. It's me. I know you’re busy, but do you think you could find any documents on gladiators?” Crossblade rested against her couch, listening intently to Goldenclaw’s avvagrated reply. “Specifically any femmes who fought in the pits of Kaon. Its for work.” Claw sighed on the other line, but she sent over a massive file directly into Crossblade’s datapad.

“Thanks, Claw. I owe you one.” 

~~~

Crossblade had been searching through the files for a few hours, but hadn’t seen anything with her name yet. However, she came across a .zip file that was named ‘Notable gladiator profiles.” She decided to give it a shot, then began to scroll through the file.

As she had guessed, none of the documents had her name on them. But, they did have pictures of the gladiators in action. She clicked on one titled ‘Unnamed’ and looked through the profile.

Crossblade’s optics widened when she saw the photos of this unnamed femme, her servos seizing up. The gladiator looked just like her, just slightly smaller. She had two blades that resembled Crossblade’s own knives, and her optics were a familiar lavender. 

 

——————————————————————-

 

The city was on fire, and Crossblade was in tears.

She had watched her home get bombed into the ground, with almost all of her tools and all of her food. Everything she owned had been in that workshop, and now it was gone. It was all gone.

Crossblade let out another choked sob, scuttling back away from the flames. The sounds of battle were muffled, and all she could hear was her own spark. Crossblade stood up shakily, survival instincts kicking in. “I need to move.” 

Crossblade ran, clutching her knives. She slipped under an Autobot legs, extending her blade. She knew exactly who had bombed her home, and it sure wasn’t the Decepticons. Her knife jaggedly cut through his knee joint, sending the bulky mech to the ground. He was shot down almost immediately shot down.

As Crossblade skated farther away from the battle, she smiled in satisfaction. Even though she was now officially homeless, being a part of the Autobot’s untimely demise was...satisfying. She finally slowed, slipping her blades back into her holsters. 

Crossblade hummed, flipping down her visor. She was picking up life signals from below, and her processor was pushing inside. She walked inside an abandoned bar, looking to the stairs. They led down, and the faint roars of a crowd reached her audio receptor. Crossblade shrugged, climbing down the stairs.

She was greeted by a tall, sleazy looking mech holding a clipboard. He lit up when he saw her weapons, then picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a feed contestant! The crowd will love ya, sweetspark!” Crossblade struggled in his grasp, but was thrown unceremoniously into an arena.

She coughed, jumping to her feet. The crowd gave a cheer, and another contestant jumped over the gates. He was at least four times Crossblade’s size, and holding a battle axe with a blade as ide as her. An unseen announcer shouted into an intercom, and stage lights settled on her opponent. “Annihilation, the mech who has never been beaten!”

Crossblade looked at him, then pulled her blades from their holsters. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured my death.” The mech raised his axe, and threw it at her.

Crossblade yelped, dodging the blow. Her visor was lowered, data in a language she didn’t understand flashing on the screen. Her optics were flashing, and she felt like someone was trying to speak to her.

[Serve your purpose, serve the Decepticons. It is your destiny.]

Crossblade flipped her blades, lunging straight up at Annihilation. He was too slow, and he wasn’t ready for the sheer power she held. Crossblade latched onto his chassis, sticking the knives into both sides of his unprotected neck. He gurgled, falling backwards. Crossblade jumped off him, grinning wildly. 

The crowds was silent for a moment, then erupted into cheers. Crossblade was reeling, trying to understand who had been speaking directly into her mind. She slipped her blades into their holsters, and ran out of the arena. 

The crowd reached out, trying to stop her. Crossblade flipped, landing a solid kick on the mech who had tossed her inside. She skated away, sprinting back up the stairs and out of the bar. Crossblade didn’t stop running, not until a massive mech with the Decepticon insignia stepped in front of her and picked her up. 

“Hey, kid. We saw what happened to your home, and what you can do.” He ignored Crossblade’s terrified struggled, holding her up to his optic level. “How do you feel about becoming a Decepticon?”

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade’s head snapped back up, her memory feeling just a little more complete. She glanced back at the document, reading the lastparagraph.

‘This femme only fought one battle, but took down one of Kaon’s strongest gladiators in a single blow. She fled the arena immediately after, and her current whereabouts are unknown.’

Crossblade stared at the file, then started to laugh. Her giggles increased in volume until she was just cackling, datapad turning off. “I can’t believe it!” Crossblade choked out, wiping her eyes. 

Unbeknownst to Crossblade, her left optic was now completely lavender, sparkling with unused energy.


	9. I’m Strong Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR PHYSICAL ABUSE

Crossblade felt sick. Her engines were demanding more energon than she could afford, and she was always antsy. She had been avoiding mirrors, trying to ignore her constantly sparking left optic. When she did catch glimpses of her optics, the lavender webs made her feel like she was going to throw up.

In an attempt to use up the constantly building energy her small frame was storing, Crossblade had started going to the gym. This gym had holograms that you could interact with, and Crossblade had been fighting them at the highest difficulty setting they had.

She pushed open the door to the gym, claiming a ring. The owner waved at her, activating the privacy guards around her ring. Walls around the ring shot up from the floor, muffling all the sound from the outside. Crossblade drew her spear, and a featureless hologram flickered into existence.

Step, step, dodge. Slice, skewer, fall back, dodge. Crossblade’s technique was growing more refined by the minute, her blows becoming more and more confident. She jumped up the wall, launching herself at the hologram. It crumbled out of existence, but another larger one formed to take its place.

Crossblade felt herself slip into her battle headspace, slipping under the holograms legs. Her movements became second nature, and she was pinpointing the hologram’s weak spots even without her visor. Her optics crackled, lavender webs glowing brighter. Slice, stab, dodge, jump and repeat. 

The hologram suddenly lunged for her, knocking her back with a swipe of it's massive arm. Crossblade yelped, rolling across the ring. The lavender was shooting out physical sparks, the white-hot energy blinding her.

 

——————————————————————-

 

Megatron swiped Crossblade away, knocking her into the wall. She scrambled to her feet, about to attack again but Megatron raised his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“You’re getting reckless. If you had aimed for my legs you could’ve gone for the kill after I fell. You aren’t strong enough or big enough to hold off brute force.” 

Crossblade flinched at his scolding, rubbing her elbow. “I’m sorry, my lord. I just thought that I could try something new.” He softened, stepping towards her and kneeling so he could look her in the optics. “You are ambitious, but you have to remember that you won’t be as physically strong as your opponent.” 

Crossblade looked away, mentally cursing herself. She had been training for years, yet she still wasn’t able to do any real damage to her lord. He had been so patient too, but she just wasn’t strong enough.

Megatron stood back up, walking backwards. “Again. Try to land one punch.” He kept his arms crossed, not even trying to look interested. Crossblade dropped her spear, shrugging and ran at him. She jumped up and aimed for a simple roundhouse, but instead was caught midair by Megatron.

He pulled his hand back and slapped her across the face, his own faceplate neutral. He dropped her, then settled back into his relaxed pose. “Again.” Crossblade rubbed her cheek, but now she was angry.

She lunged again, only to be plucked out of the air and slapped again. Crossblade felt energon gather in her mouth, wincing at the blow. Megatron tossed her away, growling. She struggled to stand, but her lord stepped forward and swiftly kicked her side. His massive pede sent her flying into a wall, and for a moment she felt like she was about to die.

Crossblade stood shakily, but Megatron picked her up effortlessly by her neck and slammed her into the wall, optics blazing. “You are a warrior, Crossblade! Now act like it!” 

 

——————————————————————-

 

The real Crossblade felt her fists clench, then let out a guttural roar. She picked up her spear and thrust it into the hologram’s chest, her optics burning white-hot. “I am a warrior!” The hologram crumbled, and Crossblade felt the anger slowly fade away. Dropping to her knees, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“I am strong enough...I know I’m strong enough.”

Crossblade’s optics started to leak coolant, the sparks sizzling as they touched the stream of purple-tinted tears.

“I’m fragging strong enough, dad.”


	10. Field Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The memories return, but Crossblade isn’t sure if she wants them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warning for even m o re physical abuse.

Crossblade had left the gym in a hurry, trying to keep her face down as much as possible. Her faceplate was stained, but her optics were in even worse shape. The right optic was flickering between violet and lavender, while the left was glowing too brightly to be safe. Crossblade transformed as soon as she hit the road, but couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching her.

She sped in the direction of her apartment, but changed her mind as just before she was about to pull in. Instead Crossblade kept driving, and soon she was out of the city completely. The highway she was driving on was a long one, practically abandoned. It led to Vos, but most of the visiting flyers from Vos just flew to her city. The road was filled with potholes, but the skies were clear.

Crossblade drove until the glimmering city disappeared over the horizon, then transformed back to her bipedal mode and walked off the road. The space around the road was completely unused, and filled with old army camps. Crossblade passed a tattered flag with the Autobot insignia, shivering at the obvious signs of battle.

She walked into the abandoned camp, then sat down on top of a crate. Judging by the symbols on the side of the rusty crate, it used to be filled with rations. Crossblade sighed, tapping her servos on the hollow cube. “...Why did I forget?” She whispered to herself, smiling sadly.

 

——————————————————————-

 

The younger Crossblade was sparring with Megatron, frowning in concentration. She lunged up at Megatron, kicking him across the face before he could catch her. She drew her blades and slipped beneath him, slicing his knee from behind. Megatron was forced to drop, and Crossblade jumped at him from behind and pointed her blade at the back of his neck.

The warlord started to chuckle, turning around with a grin. “You did it. You finally did it!” Crossblade lowered her blade, laughing proudly. “I did it!” Megatron stood up carefully, groaning a little when his knee faltered. He picked Crossblade up, resting her on his shoulders.

“I think you’re ready for a proper battle, my dear.” Megatron started to make his way to Knockout’s office, carrying Crossblade on his shoulders. “I’ll just get my knee fixed up, then we’ll give you a field test.” Crossblade grinned, swinging her legs. “You really think I’m ready for a real fight?”

Megatron reaches Knockout’s office, then picked Crossblade up and carefully dropped her back down to the floor. He opened the doors and sat on Knockout’s table, holding his knee out for Knockout to fix. “Crossblade, I’m am positive that you are ready.” Knockout had his knee fixed in record time, then sent him off.

Megatron strode to one of the smaller ships, plugging in coordinates for a desolate moon a few light years from the Nemesis. Crossblade ran behind him, jumping into the co-captains seat. She popped a candy into her mouth, already firing up the ship’s engines. “Where are we going, my lord?” 

Megatron sat down in the captain’s seat, steering the ship away from the Nemesis. “There is an Autobot camp that will be a good test for you.” He answered vaguely, preparing to move at light speed. Megatron hummed thoughtfully, and CD decided not to push the subject.

They landed on the isolated rock in a few hours, and Megatron climbed out of the ship. He waited for Crossblade to jump out, the swept gestured at the area. “Find them, and terminate them.” Crossblade nodded, lowering her visor and scanning for life signals. She locked on, then started to run straight at them. “This way.”

She skated around the rocks blocking her way, and skidded to a stop just before the the Autobot camp. Crossblade hid behind a boulder, peeking around to watch. There was only ten, but they looked uninjured. Crossblade drew her spear, the soft scrape of the metal leaving it's holster making one of the closer bots look up. “What was that?”

‘That’ was Crossblade, jumping over the boulder and slicing the mech’s head off, her face unreadable. The other Autobots raised their blasters, but Crossblade had already moved on. “How did the Decepticons find-!” The speaker was stopped by a spear skewering his chassis, destroying his spark.

Stab, slice, dodge, run, repeat. Crossblade’s movements were emotionless, and it helped her fight. The other eight fell in an instant, their terror still fresh in the air. Crossblade panted, but relaxed. “My lord, it is done.” She yelled out, signalling for Megatron to step out from behind another rock. “Good job, my dear.”

His congratulatory speech was interrupted by the sound of a mech falling, the sound of metal scraping against rock unmistakable. Crossblade whipped around, spear pointed at the sound. An Autobot minicon had tripped over one of the fallen mech’s pedes, and was cowering on the ground. Crossblade jumped, landing on his chassis and was about to land the final blow.

She hesitated, looking into the minicon’s optics. He was shaking, silently pleading with her. Crossblade looked to his Autobot mark, frowning when she saw how fresh the paint was. He was just a teenager. He wasn’t even strong enough to hurt anyone. Crossblade stepped off of him, then dropped her spear.

“I...I can’t do it. He’s just a stupid teenager.” She whispered, slowly backing away. “He’s just a kid.” Megatron was silent for a minute, then he just sighed. He raised his arm, fusion cannon humming dangerously. “This was to be expected, but it is still a disappointment.” He blasted the minicon’s head off, ignoring the Autobot’s panicked scream.

“My lord, I’m sorry!” Crossblade apologized, but Megatron just grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the ship. “I can still fight, I just couldn’t-!” Megatron raised his hand, slapping her so hard her optics almost shattered. 

“Shut. Up.” He hissed, tossing her into the ship. Crossblade slammed into the wall, coughing up a little bit of energon. Megatron set the ship to return to base, then approached her weakened frame and pressed his pede into her faceplate.

“I built you, sent you off so you would be safe, and this is the thanks I get?! You are lucky I didn’t scrap you the moment I learned you were fragging defective!” He roared, the warlord’s caring facade gone. Crossblade cried out, clawing at his massive pede. Her optics were leaking coolant in fear, but he just sneered down at her.

“I’m sorry! Please, please don’t kill me!” She begged, vocalizer crackling with static. Megatron dug his heel into her gut sharply, then stepped back and sat back down in the captain’s seat. Crossblade sobbed, curling onto her side. She didn’t dare stand, in fear that he would shoot her right there.

They flew away, but not back in the direction of the Nemesis. She didn’t recognize the area where they landed, but she recognized the planet. Megatron had taken them back to Cybertron, but why? Crossblade didn’t have any time to think about it, because her lord picked her up and threw her into a tunnel.

“Go.” He commanded, pushing her down into the tunnel. She nodded, limping as fast as she could. They reached a door, and Megatron pushed the door open. He shoved her inside the room, tossing her onto a table. Crossblade yelped and tried to roll off, but a hulking purple mech with one red optic held her down. 

“My lord, w-what’s happening?!” Crossblade stuttered, fighting against the restraints. The new mech slammed her head down, tying it to the table with a belt. Crossblade felt the tears well up again, struggling to pull off the restraints.

“Wipe it all. Remove as much of the gene as you can without sending her into a vegetative state, then ship her back to the Nemesis.” Megatron ordered, then started to walk out. The mech nodded, plugging a cord into Crossblade’s back wordlessly. “I can’t have another failed soldier.”

“Right away, Lord Megatron.” His voice was empty, devoid of emotion. Crossblade felt her grip on reality slipping away, and managed to pull her wrist out of the restraints in her desperation. She reached out for Megatron, her tears flowing freely down her faceplate. 

“Father, please!”

~~~

Crossblade woke up on Knockout’s table, feeling like she was forgetting something. “Ugh...what happened?” She asked groggily, rubbing the back of her head. Knockout handed her a small mirror, patting her shoulder.

“You were scouting for materials off the Nemesis when some Autobot attacked you. Megatron found you, but your optics had been severely damaged by the Autobot’s welder.” Crossblade picked up the mirror, looking at her face. 

Her optics were now a dark violet, all traces of the old colour gone. Knockout sighed, passing her a bottle of medication. “I tried my best to repair them.” 

 

——————————————————————-

 

Crossblade opened her optics, frowning when she realized she was on the ground. It seemed she had rolled off the crate. She looked up at the sky, staring at the constellations. This far from Crystal City, you could see the stars perfectly. Crossblade sighed, standing up.

She began her slow walk back to the city, both of her optics glowing lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For keo. You know what you did.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can yell at me on my tumblr, @cybertronianslut!


End file.
